


Six Times the Hub Went Into Lockdown

by orphan_account



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 14:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Torchwood Team do very little work, talk television and get stuck in the Hub. Sometimes on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Times the Hub Went Into Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows along with seasons 1 and 2, so contains major spoilers for those, but is pre-CoE.

**I. Technical difficulties**

"Oh," said Tosh, in a tone which caused Gwen to frown over her shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Some sort of anomaly." Tosh tapped rapidly at her keyboard. Alarms began to blare, lights flashing and glinting oddly on her dark hair.

"Jack, we have a problem down here," Gwen called.

The roller door clunked into place, the Hub reverberating with other, similar sounds. 

"Did we just go into lockdown?" Jack demanded.

"Sorry," Tosh said, still peering at her monitor. "I think it's some kind of corruption in the system; I'm trying to bypass it."

"How long?"

Tosh adjusted her glasses. "Just give me a minute."

 

*

 

A minute turned into a DIY game of Trivial Pursuit, with dice from the depths of Owen's drawer and a hand-drawn game board, courtesy of Ianto. There were little weevils sketched in the corners, although Jack had mistaken them for rocks. 

As Owen said, they had no food or booze, not a single pack of cards, and the external CCTV was only interesting if people were out there snogging.

"Okay," said Tosh, looking at her monitor. "Who went into the famous Rumble in the Jungle boxing match in Zaire with thirty-seven knock-outs?"

"Ooh," Gwen said. Then, "No, sorry. No idea."

"George Foreman," Owen answered.

"Correct. I didn't know you liked boxing," Tosh said, leaning around to see Owen where he sat sullenly at his desk, chewing on the end of a pen.

"Don't really. Stupid sport dedicated to knocking people's brains about."

"Tosh, you're next. Then Ianto." Jack had been announcing people's turns since they started, as though they couldn't tell for themselves. "Sure you don't want to play, Owen?"

"Still fine here. For various values of 'fine'. How much longer until we can get out of here?"

"Um," Tosh said. "As soon as the new program over-writes the corrupted code. A little while, sorry."

Owen sighed heavily, as he had been doing for the last hour. Gwen jumped up and took Tosh's place at the computer.

"Science-fiction," Ianto announced, watching Toshiko settle her icon on the board (a green m&amp;m found in Gwen's bag).

"Ready? What gift does Q bestow upon Data at the end of _Deja Q_? I hope that means something to you."

Tosh smiled brightly and looked vaguely embarrassed at the same time. "I know it. He makes Data laugh."

"Closet sci-fi nerd, Tosh?" Owen said, swinging in his chair.

"Not exactly. I watched a Star Trek marathon last weekend."

"I know who Spock is. Was Spock in it?" Jack asked.

"No, that was the first Star Trek. This was _The Next Generation_, with Captain Picard."

"Oh, secret's out now, Sato," Owen drawled. "Your deep and forbidden love of science-fiction and bald men, revealed at last."

"I only caught it by accident," she protested happily.

"And you, PC Cooper, what is your sordid televisual secret?"

"Don't have much time to watch it, do I?"

"But if you do," Owen persisted.

"_The Bill_, I suppose. Shut it!" she added when Owen hooted. "It's nice and normal, now I spend my days chasing aliens. It's always just some angsty, heartbroken kid or greedy scumbag causing the trouble."

"You'd be surprised," Jack commented. "The galaxy's full of them."

Gwen pursed her lips thoughtfully; she was still trying to figure out where the truth lay in anything Jack said.

"Anyway," she went on. "You claiming to have superior taste, Owen Harper?"

"Superior to _The Bill_? Um, let me think: _yes_. But I don't indulge in television, thank you very much. I prefer to listen to music and entertain attractive company."

"You lying hound," Gwen exclaimed. "You've only got a shelf full of _Sherlock Holmes_ DVDs."

Tosh's eyebrows lifted in a hesitant movement, and Owen looked abashed. 

"Alright, fine, so I enjoy a little quality detecting now and then. You may not be familiar with that term, Gwen."

"Coppers do lots of detecting, thank you. Even on the telly. And some of them are fit, which is a nice bonus."

"What about you, Ianto?" Tosh jumped in.

"Ianto only watches nature documentaries," Owen smirked. "And takes notes."

"He could be a connoisseur of French films," Gwen said. "You know, those pretty, thoughtful ones where you don't really know what's going on."

"Or _Upstairs Downstairs_?"

"_Strictly Come Dancing_."

"_Changing Rooms_."

"Mork and Mildred," Jack suggested.

"Mindy," Tosh corrected. "Or George."

"Oh," said Jack.

Ianto smiled a little, and rolled the dice.

 

**II. Intruder Alert**

_Cybermen god Cybermen here only one of them a woman unless there's more this is bad oh where's Owen where's Jack please let Owen be okay if only the lights were on I could see it's so dark get the box on my desk no never get there in time there she is all this time in here right underneath us we're going to be torn down just like Torchwood One from the inside converted into machines oh come on come on hurry up Ianto how did he do this how long how could he do this to us?_

 

**III. Unexpected mind-altering substances**

Jack came down the stairs from his office with Owen beside him and clapped his hands together loudly.

"Okay, kids, listen up. We have a change of plans for this evening: one of those canisters we brought over has been leaking. This means we have all been exposed to the gas inside it."

"Oh, bloody wonderful," Gwen groaned.

"Don't worry, it's not toxic. Owen?"

"Yeah, look, we're already familiar with this substance. It's a mild hallucinogen, nothing heavy. Torchwood Four had a run-in with it before they disappeared."

"You mean, it was connected with their disappearance?" Tosh asked.

"Did I say that?" 

"Well, no, but it seemed —"

"It was not connected with their disappearance," Owen cut in. "Now, I suggest you drink plenty of fluids and find a nice comfortable place to sit down while the effects wear off."

"And how long will that be, exactly?" Ianto asked quietly. He'd paused at Tosh's workstation with a clipboard in hand.

"I'll tell you when I figure it out."

"I'm putting the Hub into lockdown for the duration," Jack said. "We can't risk exposing the lovely citizens of Cardiff. I've already locked out the armoury and the cells. Owen, do you think we should tie ourselves up just to be safe?"

Owen, having seen the glint in Jack's eye, made a face. "No, Jack, I don't think that will be necessary. We just need to sit tight until we're clear."

Jack grinned. "Don't look so worried, all of you. They use this stuff all the time on Cator Navin. Mainly as a means of keeping the populace happy. Actually, back in their twelfth century it was more commonly used as a surgical tool and sometimes illegally for what you'd call date rape, but they got that all cleared up after the incident with the Minister for Galactic Harmony." He tucked his hands in his pockets, looking around at their faces. "Think of it as downtime. It'll be like a campout," he enthused. "At Woodstock."

Gwen dug out her mobile. "I'd better call Rhys."

 

*

 

Some hours later, Ianto made his way quietly around the Hub, clearing up any mess he'd been unable to get to earlier. It was eminently soothing to tidy away the detritus: another day done. He could pack it all away.

Jack was in his office, looking — well, Ianto's first thought was that he looked somehow younger. Perhaps alien drugs had that effect on fifty-first century biology. Ianto himself felt like every sleepless night he'd ever had.

It surprised him when Jack got up from his desk and crowded Ianto against the wall. 

"That was a hell of a kiss, Ianto Jones," Jack said quietly.

Ianto strove for a neutral expression. "Was it, sir?"

"You don't think so?" Jack looked surprised.

"I'm sure I couldn't say," Ianto replied carefully.

Jack gazed at him for a few moments, close and searching, then groaned and dropped his forehead to Ianto's shoulder. It was not unpleasant, the feel of him there, his hair soft against Ianto's jaw. 

"It was," Jack confirmed. "But I guess I have a hell of an imagination."

Ah. Ianto's hands came off the wall where he had flattened them, they drifted towards the warm heft of Jack's body.

"I've always thought so, sir," he said. "Perhaps a cup of coffee would help to clear your mind." 

Jack looked up, his shoulders moved with a steady breath. "We should do that again, sometime," he said. "When it's not just in my head."

Ianto's fingers slid against the cotton folds of Jack's shirt, and he gently pushed them both away from the wall.

"I'll just go get that coffee started," he answered, and perhaps his hands lingered, just for a moment, before he slipped out the door.

 

**IV. Maintenance**

Gwen rocked back in her chair, picking another piece of olive off her dinner and watching Myfanwy settling up in the cavernous space of the ceiling. 

"Just you and me tonight, my lovely," she said, licking sauce from her thumb. 

"In that case, maybe I should go home again. Give you birds some privacy."

Gwen swung around. "Owen! What are you doing back here?"

"Lousy crowd. It's student discount night, there's nothing but pissed teenies as far as the eye can see."

"I don't think they're actually teenagers if they're at university."

"They are to me, sweetheart. May as well be here," Owen said, collapsing into a chair, "making sure you don't stuff anything up."

"I'm babysitting while the maintenance check runs through, what —"

"Please don't say, 'what could possibly go wrong'; this is Torchwood. We live by Murphy's Law."

"I was going to say, what do you think _I_ could possibly stuff up, sitting here on my arse waiting for the lockdown cycle to go through."

"Fine. Well, I'm here now, and just in time. You're about to denude that poor, defenceless mediterranean. Hand it over."

Gwen pushed the pizza box in Owen's direction, and checked her computer screen. 

"Only just got in, too. Another few minutes."

Owen chewed noisily. "Too bad Ianto's not here to fetch coffee."

"Let him have his night off. Lord knows we don't get many."

"He'll only be sitting at home sniffling into his blankie about Jack."

"Owen."

Whatever Owen had been about to reply, with half a mouthful of food, was cut short when the lift door opened. 

"Hi, Tosh," Gwen said, sitting up straight. "Did you forget something? The cycle's about to start."

Toshiko stared at them. She smiled quickly. "No, I mean, yes, I know. I just thought you might like some company. I didn't realise you'd be here, Owen?"

Owen grunted.

"Bad night at the pub?"

"Hideous. Pointless."

"Student discount night," Gwen translated.

"I see." Tosh lingered on the floor, clutching her handbag.

"Oh, come on. We've got dinner," Gwen said. "More the merrier."

"You realise if anything kicks off out there Ianto will have to deal with it on his own," Owen pointed out.

"I think Ianto can handle it," Tosh said. "He's very capable."

"Right, well, that's organised. If anybody gets eaten by a weevil, Ianto will be there to fill out the paperwork. Pizza's getting cold," Owen added over his shoulder.

"Alright. There's a deck of cards in — in Jack's desk," Tosh offered. "He put them there after that time with the Trivial Pursuit. In case, you know."

"Not like he'll be needing them now," Owen said after an uncomfortable pause. "We may as well get them. Know any card games, Gwen?"

"I'm a dab hand at poker, if I do say so myself."

"Gwen Cooper trying to bluff, now that I have to see."

Tosh hurried up the stairs to get the cards. Jack's desk was exactly as it had been the day he left; they weren't difficult to find.

 

**V. Personal leave**

The keys were warm in Ianto's hand as he took them from his pocket, nice for a moment but cooling rapidly in the cold air outside. 

It was a blustery, overcast day. The air whipped through Gwen's hair, throwing it messily across her shoulders. She looked white-faced, grim. Sad.

Rhys stood by her shoulder, looking just about as miserable. Jack waited nearby, his expression closed, caught partway between Ianto and Gwen, between the Hub and the harbour. Ianto wondered how many memorial services Jack had attended for Torchwood staff, if they all seemed the same to him by now, even if this one was just a few drinks down the pub.

They were a small party, smaller now, but that alone wouldn't make them memorable.

Ianto locked the tourist office door, tried the handle to make sure, and tucked the keys back into his jacket. 

 

**VI. Repairs**

Ianto looked dubiously at the woman in the cell. She was trying to entice him over, it seemed, although for what purpose was unclear. It had been a long time since there were actual bars here through which actual keys could be actually stolen. 

"Did you need something, miss?" he inquired.

"Do I ever, luscious. Do you think you can give me what I need?" 

Ianto considered. "It seems unlikely." 

The woman smiled, bright and unashamed, disconcertingly like Jack. Ianto pondered the likelihood that the Time Agency had a _type_. 

"Now, there's a waste," she replied. 

"Sorry to disappoint. Excuse me."

"You're leaving?"

Ianto didn't respond, not to that unnecessary question, not to her entreaties as he closed the door behind him.

 

*

 

"What the hell are we going to do with her?" Gwen was saying as Ianto entered Jack's office. "We can't keep a Time Agent in the cells." She tilted her head. "Can we?"

"Former Time Agent. And no, we can't." Jack was firm on that point. "The sooner we get her out of here the better. Ianto. She say anything?"

"Nothing of any use. She did call me luscious," Ianto said, cutting his eyes towards Jack. "Which was new."

Jack's smile was wolfish. "We know she's got taste, then. Although she'd probably still shoot you on sight if she ever got out."

"Noted."

Gwen was watching their guest on the CCTV. "Is there any way we can actually give her what she wants?"

"If it's Ianto, no. If it's, as she claims, to get her vortex manipulator fixed so she can go back to parading through time and space —"

"Parading?" Ianto asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Striding dramatically?" Gwen suggested, looking at him with a mischievous curl to her mouth. "There does seem to be a pattern, with John and everything."

"Everything being me, I suppose," Jack said. "Which is fine with me, by the way. In any case, if I could fix vortex manipulators I would have sorted mine out a long time ago."

The nature of the silence that followed was, perhaps, a little tense.

Gwen broke it; she wasn't fond of silences, uncomfortable or otherwise.

"So where does that leave us? She says she's stranded in this time — not that I'm believing her, but what if she is? No offence, Jack, but I don't like the idea of having a former Time Agent hanging around and doing god knows what to get out."

Ianto held back a dry comment about John Hart and blowing up Cardiff just before it came tumbling out of his mouth. A thought of Toshiko and Owen had followed hard on its heels. 

Jack drew a finger over his bottom lip meditatively; Ianto's gaze flicked to the movement and away again, to the surface of the desk. There was dust all over the place, he'd have to come in with a wet cloth later. 

"Okay," Jack sighed, "I'll talk to her. We can't trust her but we might be able to come to a mutual arrangement."

 

*

 

Ianto and Gwen hovered near the CCTV monitor as Jack stood in front of the cell, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Captain Jack Harkness," the woman was saying, standing opposite Jack but with none of his defensive body language. "How exotic. A good choice."

"Glad you approve," Jack answered flatly. "What should I call you?"

The woman smiled; there was a mocking edge to her, Ianto thought. "You may call me Jane."

Mocking, but not necessarily creative. 

"Why did you leave the Time Agency, Jane?"

"The Time Agency left me."

"Explain."

"If you're another agency reject then I shouldn't need to."

Reject was an interesting word. Jack shifted, but from this angle Ianto couldn't see his face. 

"It was my choice. I decided to do a little freelancing."

"Why does it take old work mates showing up before we find out these things?" Gwen murmured next to him. 

"If you like," Jane agreed. "Look, Harkness, this is very nice but all I want is to get free, preferably back to a time when I can replace my wristband. You can't expect me to remain stuck in the one time for the rest of my life. Especially this century!"

"Makes you feel almost special," Ianto said dryly and Gwen bumped his elbow companionably.

Down in front of the cell, Jack raised his chin. He was considering it.

"And how do you propose I send you out of here?" he asked.

"You have a time-space rift and the technology to manipulate it."

"No deal."

"Harkness," Jane said warningly. She stepped closer to the plexiglass separating her from Jack. 

There wasn't much that intimidated Jack Harkness, though, especially not a caged (former) Time Agent. Ianto imagined he looked unconcerned, despite the hard set of his shoulders. "I'm not opening the rift, not for you or anybody else. If you want to get out of here you'll have to figure something else out."

Jane seemed to study him for a moment. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms and looking away. 

"_Fine_," Jack replied. 

"Bloody hell," Gwen sighed.

 

*

 

There was a part of Jane's wrist that was more pale, softer than the rest of her forearm; her wristband, fried according to Jack, had been secured in the safe when Jane had first arrived. Ianto's fingers brushed across this newly bared skin as he re-checked the cuffs.

"Some pretty things in this century, aren't there?" Jane commented, her gaze flicking from Gwen, standing in front and training a gun on Jane's chest, to Ianto as he stepped out from behind her.

"More than just pretty," Jack commented as he joined them. "And they'll shoot you if you put a hair out of line."

"Oh, Jack," Jane smirked. "My hair is never out of line." 

Ianto checked the clock. He could admit to feeling a little nervous. The last time — well, he sincerely hoped it would remain the last time, that was all, something never to be repeated. They had put the Hub on lockdown just as a precaution, although as Jack said, doors were somewhat obsolete in this case.

A bright flare of light erupted near the water tower, Ianto blinked quickly but didn't look away. Jack drew his pistol. 

"Hello, lover," said John Hart. Ianto rather wanted to shoot him on sight, but then that was nothing new.

 

*

 

"You want me to take her along," Hart said. He looked from Jane to Jack and huffed a laugh. "Don't like anyone else playing on your turf, is that it? Maybe I should put out a bulletin: steer clear of the twenty-first 'cause Jack Harkness is already there, and he doesn't like company. At least, not his own kind."

Jack's expression had only grown more forbidding since Hart had swaggered into the Hub; Hart's suggestion might not have been all that ridiculous.

"Just see her to some time far from now," Jack said, and when Hart opened his mouth he added, "You owe me."

For a moment Hart looked almost wounded, but he just pursed his lips and then ambled over to Jane.

"Captain John Hart," he said.

"Matching names, that's splendid. Jane Hunt," Jane announced. "I'd shake your hand in their lovely old-fashioned way but I'm too dangerous." 

A slow smile spread over Hart's face. "So I gather. Where'd you fancy ending up then?"

"Minos Nine, the Era of Weather, preferably," Jane said promptly.

"Oh, nice. That festival they have —"

"With the snow —"

"And the ice explosions —"

"And the lava pools."

Jane sighed a little, and Hart grinned. A furtive glance at Jack showed him looking sort of blissfully nostalgic. 

Hart clapped his hands together. "Alright, then. We'll be off. Just give us the code for the cuffs and you can thank me next time I drop by."

"Or we thank you now and you never drop by?" Ianto suggested.

"You'd only get bored without me."

Ianto looked to Jack and raised an eyebrow: _give him the code?_

Jack's expression agreed. 

It occurred to Ianto later that perhaps he should have waited a little longer to ask.

 

*

 

Jack was lying near the autopsy bay, shot through the stomach. His shirt was burned, a charred mess beyond it. The wound was healing as they knelt down beside him.

Ianto grasped one of Jack's hands; Gwen took up his other one.

After a moment the body jerked on the floor, and Jack's mouth opened on a harsh gasp.

"Shh, shh, it's alright," Gwen murmured. "You're okay, you're with us."

Jack blinked groggily. "Where —"

"In the Hub," Ianto answered.

"John," Jack said, remembering. "What happened?"

"They've gone," said Gwen, squeezing his hand. "Hart said to say sorry about the mix-up."

"And Jane?"

Ianto brushed some ash off the bared portion of Jack's torso carefully. "You were right, she wanted the rift manipulator. Hart activated a portal. We got Jane through before she could do anything else." Or shoot anyone else, as it were.

In addition to saying sorry, Hart had also had some things to say about searching for advanced concealed weaponry, _next time, you morons; she could have blown my head off and it won't grow back_, before he leapt through after Jane, but Ianto didn't think it necessary to pass that on.

"We really need to find better ways of keeping cons out of our secret underground base," Jack complained.

"Weevil guard-dogs?" Ianto suggested.

"Hm. They'd only jump on the furniture."

Jack sat up and Ianto helped him stand, steadying him as he gained his feet. Ianto's free hand came to rest on the small of Jack's back; beneath his palm Jack was warm and vital. He knew this curve, had pressed his lips there and felt Jack shiver against him.

"Okay, I'm good," Jack said, and plucked at his ruined shirt. "That was not fun; we're going to have to do something about that. But good job, people," he said, looking them over. "Torchwood Three," he said with satisfaction. "Ready for anything."

"Not quite ready for more of your old friends, Jack," Ianto corrected.

"Friends is such a wrong word."

"Ready for lunch, at least," Gwen decided and so once Ianto had cancelled the lockdown and Jack had changed, that's where they went, out into the city and along the familiar streets, just the three of them. The day seemed to draw them along, cool and clear, and a fresh wind came in off the ocean, colouring everything with salt.

The Hub was waiting for them on their return.


End file.
